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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23281705">Telltale universe</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JokeOfTheDay/pseuds/JokeOfTheDay'>JokeOfTheDay</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, short and simple</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:29:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,813</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23281705</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JokeOfTheDay/pseuds/JokeOfTheDay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Short fics, thoughts and drabbles mostly focusing on the JohnxBruce relationship. I will add them as they come to me.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Doe/Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>All will be post vigilante route unless otherwise stated. Not necessarily in chronological order. As a general rule of thumb, John's attitude increases in accordance with the passage of time.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a short missing scene from the end of episode 5.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two men lay opposite each other in the darkness of the old chemical factory, silence shrouding them thicker than the acrid fumes wafting from the luminescent acid vats below. </p><p>John sat unmoving, eyes dull and unfocused. Had he been lying to himself from the beginning? Had he thought foolishly that he could hold onto something that had never been his to begin with? How could he have been so stupid, so foolish and naive? Everything had unravelled so quickly. Blinded by fury and sheer indignation, John had allowed the creature to slip its bonds, and in a spectacularly gory and bestial frenzy, sent four agents to an early grave. In those short moments, he had become something else entirely, and it had been at once both exhilarating and terrifying. The manic high had since faded, but regret had immediately come crashing down in its wake. John knew then that he was a lost cause. After witnessing that bloodbath, surely there was no way that Bruce would still want to--</p><p>“John.” came the voice,firm but gentle. “Hold still. I’m going to remove this.” He looked up slowly, the throbbing in his palm suddenly returning with a vengeance. There was a clink, a sudden sharp tug, and a flood of dampness. John brought his injured hand to his lap, still not comprehending. </p><p>The dark form before him shifted. A click, and then the cowl was on the ground, followed by the gloves. </p><p>“John?” said Bruce softly. “I’m going to staunch the bleeding.” His blue eyes were uncertain, the expression in them unreadable. John nodded. He kept his own gaze downcast, not quite daring to look his friend in the eye.</p><p>He felt something dabbing at his palm, then a cooling sensation.</p><p>“Bruce?” he blurted out suddenly. The motions ceased.</p><p>“I..I don’t want to go back to Arkham.” he confessed. </p><p>“You know you have to.” Bruce resumed his ministrations. </p><p>“You don’t understand.” John persisted. “It took me so long to get out of that place.” He felt dampness welling in the corners of his eyes. “For years, I was nobody, just a nameless, faceless prisoner rotting inside of a fancy prison cell. When I was in there, I had nothing, certainly not a past, and now..not even a future.”</p><p>Bruce hesitated, absorbing this information. </p><p>“You told me once that you found the lights reassuring.”</p><p>“Yes, Arkham was familiar,” John admitted. “Arkham was all I had ever known...but once I got out, things changed. I found something of value. Or at least I thought I did.”</p><p>“..are you talking about Harley?”</p><p>“...No.” he admitted. “There was a time when I thought she meant something to me..but..No. It was something else.” He furrowed his brows in confusion, contemplating his next words. “I almost thought that I had the chance to be somebody.” he said slowly. “To become someone. A real person. Not a ghost or a shadow on the walls of Arkham.”</p><p>“And you will be John.” said Bruce evenly. “You’re real to me.”</p><p>“Am I?” he said incredulously. “You saw what I did. You know what I am.” He gestured to his head. “It’s useless. What’s up here, it’s cracked, maybe forever. Maybe there’s nothing that can ever be done.”</p><p>“You don’t know that for certain.” The blue eyes were dim and sad now. </p><p>“Neither do you.”</p><p>“Maybe not.” murmured Bruce. “but I do know this. When you go back there, this time it’s going to be different.”</p><p>John tilted his head in puzzlement, then looked down at his hand, now swathed in white bandages.</p><p>“You’re not nobody John. You’re my friend. And what friends do is to be there for one another. I’ll be there for you this time John. Whatever it takes.” </p><p>“You don’t know what you’re saying.”</p><p>Bruce smiled benevolently. Gently, he took John’s hands into his own.</p><p>“You once asked me to have faith in you. Now it’s your turn. I’m going to have to ask you to trust me. Can you do that?” His voice was mellow, the tone low and sweet.</p><p>John stared, transfixed by that sparkling azure gaze. And then, right there, bathed in the dim light of the control room, something strange seemed to happen, a transformation slowly taking place before his eyes. Light seemed to permeate that powerful silhouette, illuminating him in an otherworldly flare; the man once flesh and blood, now metamorphosing, becoming something more than the sum of its parts. Dancing across the sculpted cheekbones and noble visage, light and shadow intertwined, cascading, begetting an aura verging on the divine. </p><p>
It was then that John saw it, clear and unobscured for the very first time. There it was, his own guiding light; his beacon in the dark, his bulwark against the maelstrom. It was that light which bathed him in a warm and comforting glow, pacifying and entrancing. His personal hope and salvation; His Light outside of Arkham.</p><p>Not for the first time in his life, John felt tremors of that peculiar clenching sensation in his gut and the beginnings of a dizzying levity in the air. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. A hand was extended before him, within it a question, a chance and an offer. </p><p>The blank pages of the book stared him in the face.</p><p>“Come on John, let's get this sorted out.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Puzzle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a couple of years post canon.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bruce sat in the batcave, reviewing footage of previous missions. Drone footage, surveillance videos, images caught on camera. “Just routine,” he told himself. Yet somehow, by sheer force of magnetism he found himself revisiting footage of a certain green haired vigilante again and again. No, not just anyone. His partner. “For strategic purposes,” Bruce told himself. “To see what could be done better next time.” he mumbled to no one in particular. Water dripped in the distance, shrill titters echoing. </p><p>He brought up a piece of footage, captured by drone during John’s last solo mission. Eight armed mafia thugs at a deserted shipyard, guarding a shipment of illegal weaponry. Bruce watched as John stealthily and methodically brought them down like he’d been taught. He smiled. John had grown so much since his release from Arkham, and even before that. In the past few years, Bruce was quite certain that he'd borne witness to a gradual but steady transformation, a blossoming perhaps, like a flower unfurling in slow motion, or a bird taking flight. Bruce thought of how John might laugh at the idea of being compared to a delicate flower; certainly he had the showiness of a tropical orchid, but none of its fragility. To his credit, John had proven resilient despite the odds. He walked now with a fluid gait, back straight, limbs loosened. Almost gone was the nervous tittering; his words now flowed more freely, instead of stumbling jittery and unsound. </p><p>
It hadn’t been easy convincing John to forgo the blades for the shock baton. Too clean, he’d complained. Not deadly enough, he’d whined, red-painted lips pouting petulantly. Bruce had given such a withering glare that John had sheepishly shrugged and turned away, twirling the cane in his slender fingers like it was second nature to him. That was just one mystery among many. John always did pick things up fast.</p><p>Bruce brought up another video. It was the last altercation with Poison Ivy. John and Bruce had worked together to take down an enormous acid-venom spewing monstrosity, some unholy marriage of plant and beast. Bruce zoomed in on John leaping among the tangled vines. The blades were out now, twin daggers slicing and whirling in a beautiful, macabre dance. He watched as John scaled the rearing creature with almost sylvan dexterity and dug his knives into it’s neck, then tugged and released his foothold, splitting it down the vulnerable underside from top to bottom. Despite his deceptive frailty, John always did move with surprising strength and grace if he wanted to.</p><p>Bruce contemplated this. He recalled the first time he’d seen John in action, during their first fight together. He remembered the effortless way he’d dodged Bane’s powerful attacks, the way he’d floored the great brute with a graceful flying kick. Bruce fast forwarded to the altercation on the GCPD rooftop, bringing up flashbacks of John dodging the agency’s bullets with almost supernatural agility. There was more, so much more. Images came fast and furious, flitting and ghosting through his mind. Again and again came the twin blades flipping, dancing; etching themselves deep within the core of his memories. </p><p>Bruce had asked John about it once, when he’d been incarcerated in Arkham again after the incident at Ace Chemicals. “How did you learn to do that?” he’d asked. John had looked at him like he’d asked why the sky was blue. “How did you learn how to fight? The way you wielded those knives..” he’d trailed off. John had looked down guiltily and scratched his head. “I..uh. I don’t know.” he’d muttered quietly. “It just felt natural y’know. Maybe I uh..” He’d waved his palms helplessly and looked away then, shutting down like whatever thoughts he’d raised had left a bad taste in his mouth. Bruce had never asked the question since. If John wanted his past dug up, he’d have requested it. Bruce had never pressed the issue, though it niggled at the back of his mind sometimes like an itch that he couldn’t scratch.</p><p>Bruce sighed. The video was still replaying over and over.</p><p>A voice broke his reverie. “Is this what counts as porn these days?” John stood behind him, head tilted up confidently, arms akimbo. “Naughty, naughty..” John teased, waggling a finger as he slid cat-like into Bruce’s lap. Bruce turned to face him, a smile spreading over his face. “You’re back early.” he muttered, hands cupping John’s chin. “Mmhm,” John assented. “Job was a doozy. In and out and over in a jiffy, not kind of unlike you.” Green eyes sparkled with amusement. “Are you..are you calling me inadequate?” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Uh, I don’t know. I mean, you were pretty fast last night.” John’s lips quirked. Bruce’s cheeks colored slightly. “Um.” he managed, unbidden images of a pale body rocking slowly above him coming to mind. Moonlight, soft laughter; a red lace garter on a milky white thigh. “Goddammit, John.” Bruce ground out, his pulse quickening rapidly. “Language..” John purred, burying his face in the crook of Bruce’s neck, deft fingers wandering down his broad chest. “Uh. Aren’t you going to give me a status report first?” Bruce mumbled distractedly, pulling back a little. John looked up, staring him straight in the eye, gaze bright with a challenge. “Later, darling. What do you say you try to make it up to me first, hm?” Bruce’s mouth opened a little. “You’re terrible.” he said. “Undisciplined.” he reiterated. John giggled. “Who’s going to discipline me then?” There was a gentle slap, then more giggling. </p><p>John was a puzzle within a puzzle, an intrigue within a plot; and as Bruce wrapped his arms and lips around him, his heart growing fonder and his chest tight, the selfish thought occurred that he would like to keep it all to himself, his own personal Gordian knot, his alone to slowly unravel at his leisure, perhaps for the rest of his life.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Color</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which i realize that i don’t know the foggiest thing about makeup.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It started off a little subtly, with a little zing of color here and there. Flashes of green and purple appeared on his nails one day, the next, a rainbow of beaded trinkets encircling his slender wrists. Some days there would be a bold floral print shirt; a gaudy pink tie on another.</p><p>He was wearing a Hawaiian print shirt today, purple with white and yellow flowers, his Raybans perched on his forehead, slightly askew. On his feet were open toed sandals, a mismatched pair as usual, in that typically quirky manner of his. It looked absolutely ridiculous. Bruce smiled fondly. It was also very, inimitably, quintessentially John. </p><p>However, there was something new today. As John greeted him from the door of the halfway house, Bruce noticed that he turned his face sideways and didn’t quite meet his eyes.</p><p>He leaned in for a closer look. “John? Is that lipstick?” John’s lips were painted a deep vivid crimson, and on his eyelids were a splash of glitter. He hadn’t worn makeup in ages, certainly not since *that* unfortunate incident.</p><p>“Dr Leland says that I shouldn’t wear that stuff.” mumbled John sheepishly. “..she says that I shouldn’t do anything to remind myself of uh, y’know...but she’s not here now, is she?” He tilted his head almost shyly. “Do you like it?” He peered at Bruce, watching for a reaction.</p><p>Bruce started. He watched as John sucked at the bottom of his lip. The tip of a pink tongue emerged, flicked over the bottom, then disappeared. “Um.” he began. “It’s fine if you like it. I mean, if you like wearing it.” He continued staring. “You don’t think it’s too weird?” queried John, his green eyes widening. “I mean the doctors keep saying that it could trigger something, like bad memories or whatever, but I don’t actually feel anything. I mean, this? It just feels right y’know.”</p><p>Bruce nodded, eyes fixated on that bright scarlet mouth. Those lips weren’t full and rounded like a woman’s, they were thin and delicate like the man himself, curved in an elegant, sensuous bow. Bruce blinked as a sudden image flashed through his mind, one of reddened lips wrapped firmly around his--</p><p>“It’s okay if it makes you happy John.” he said a little too quickly. “Anything that makes you happy, makes me happy.” John furrowed his brows. “..I mean well. Well you know what I mean.” </p><p>“..well aren’t you just the charmer.” John snickered, as though recalling a private joke. Bruce shrugged helplessly. </p><p>---</p><p>“Alright, you can come in now.”</p><p>“Tada!” John twirled around with a dramatic flourish.  </p><p>Bruce gaped. This was definitely..interesting. He regarded the gelled hair, the whitened cheeks, the blood red lips and darkened eyelids, but most dramatic of all was the startling bright pink framing those expressive, emerald eyes. It was exotic, audacious, and downright brazen. Yeah, definitely *very* interesting.  </p><p>He glanced at Bruce coyly. “..like my new look?” </p><p>Bruce gulped. “That’s um.. that’s nice.” he managed.</p><p>John arched an eyebrow. “..That’s nice?” A smile started to tug at the corner of his lips. “Brucie come on, I put effort into this y’know.”</p><p>“It’s beautiful John.” Bruce murmured. In a way it was true. It should’ve been absurd and comical, but it wasn’t. John always had a way of making the strangest things look great on him. </p><p>“You’re just saying that now, aren’t you?” he tossed his head playfully, walking away. </p><p>“You know what’s strange?” he said thoughtfully. “Wearing this..makes feel..different somehow, like a new man.” He spun around gracefully. The dim light captured the sharp angles of his face, taking on a peculiar ethereal quality. There had always been something a little otherworldly about John.   </p><p>“Maybe..” Bruce ventured, “Maybe you are finding it after all. Who you are..who you want to be.”</p><p>“...you think so?” he pursed his lips.</p><p>“How can I be myself, if I don’t even know who I'm supposed to be.” Bruce said slowly. “Look in the mirror John. What *do* you really see?” </p><p>John turned wordlessly to the full length mirror. </p><p>The spectre was real now, the indefinable made flesh and blood. No longer the fuel of nightmares, but imbued with something softer and subtler. It was smoke and piquant spice; smoldering ember, not flame. The Cheshire grin stared back, but the edges were no longer ragged. The canvas morphed; a landscape once pale and subdued, now burst into vivid technicolor.</p><p>John smiled.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Leash</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>in which your mom and dad start arguing in public and no one really wants to be there.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Batman.” said Gordon, motioning to him. “A moment please?”</p><p>“What’s this about?” said Bruce.</p><p>“Look man, I appreciate what you’re doing here but uh,” he scratched his head. “These guys you brought in the last time? One of them had 4 fingers on one hand missing. And the last time there was this one guy with his ears gone and suspicious slash wounds round his neck. Then there was the one who had all four limbs broken.” Gordon shook his head. “How am I supposed to explain that kinda shit? You gotta keep a tighter leash on him k? Word is getting out. I can’t keep covering for you, you know that.” </p><p>Bruce sighed. John had a tendency to get overly enthusiastic these days. It kept the fear of God among would be criminals, but he also knew that sooner or later all this was going to come back to bite him in a really bad place.</p><p>“Heyyy now!” interrupted John, appearing out of seemingly nowhere. “Gossiping about other people isn’t very nice, Jimmy.” He crossed his arms. “In fact, it seems kinda awfully ruude.” </p><p>“Oh for the love of.” muttered Gordon, shaking his head. </p><p>“Jimmy, Jimmy..” said John, trailing behind him. “Is it true that you’re displeased with little ol’ me? Don’t fancy my methods eh?”</p><p>“Enough of that.” snapped Bruce.</p><p>John glared at him. “Thought this was an equal partnership..darling.” He emphasized the last word, grinning maliciously.</p><p>Bruce frowned. “Look J. I’ve set those ground rules for good reasons. There are lines we don’t cross.”</p><p>“Blah blah blah, always your goddamn code.” John stuck his tongue out childishly. “It’s always do this J. don’t do that J. Damn control freak. Newsflash! I’m your partner sweetheart, not your fucking baby.”</p><p>“I. Am. Trying to protect you.”</p><p>“Maybe I don’t need protecting hm? Does it make you feel great to play the big strong hero all the time? You think I’m some helpless little damsel in distress?”</p><p>“J. I do what I do because..”</p><p>“Because what huh?”</p><p>“..you already know.” said Bruce softly.</p><p>“I want to hear it.” John’s smile was positively wicked. “Say it loud and clear.”</p><p>Bruce remained silent. </p><p>“I’m getting the hell out of here.” muttered Gordon. “I can’t do this.”</p><p>“No. Stay.” insisted John, tugging him by the collar. “We’re not done here.”</p><p>“Stop this. NOW.” </p><p>“Make me.” John tilted his chin defiantly.</p><p>Bruce sucked in a deep breath. He glanced at Gordon, and if his eyes weren’t obscured by the visor the expression on his face would’ve been utterly piteous.</p><p>He steeled himself. “I do what I have to do to protect you. To protect US. If you cross that line they’re going to put you away again. I can’t afford to lose you J. I really can’t. You know that.”</p><p>“Mmhm.” said John approvingly. “Tell me more.” He approached Bruce, swaying his hips.</p><p>Bruce looked at the ground. “I..I need you.”</p><p>“Is that so?” John placed his arms around Bruce’s neck. “..anything else I should be aware of?”</p><p>“I already said it.”</p><p>“Mmm.. I don’t think so, because I think you forgot just uh..three little words?”</p><p>Bruce growled. Leaning in, he whispered into John’s ear. “I..I love you John. I love you. I love y--” Suddenly there was a mouth on his, red hot and insistent. Bruce sighed, melting helplessly into the kiss.   </p><p>---</p><p>Somewhere out there in the darkness came the familiar utterance: “I really don’t get paid enough for this shit.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Flight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Bruce?” said John in a small voice. He stood in the middle of the cave, cautiously examining a small fuzzy object in his hands.</p><p>“What is it John?” </p><p>“I found this lying on the floor.” he said simply, arms outstretched as though in offering. Bruce frowned. A tiny, delicate creature fluttered helplessly in the pale white grasp. “That’s a baby bat.” he said. “It probably got separated from its mother. It happens sometimes.” John nodded quietly. He began examine it curiously, turning it this way and that. He started attempting to unfurl it’s wings as it struggled helplessly. A sudden sense of disquiet came over Bruce.</p><p>“John.” he interjected. “Be gentler. If you keep doing that you’ll damage its wings.” John looked at him, eyes wide and questioning. He turned back to the squeaking creature in his hands, continuing to stare in rapt fascination. As moments passed, a peculiar air of tranquility seemed to come over him, green eyes bright and unblinking. </p><p>The sense of disquiet grew. </p><p>“Why don’t you just give it to me?” muttered Bruce. </p><p>“Why?” said John. “Can’t we keep it?”  </p><p>“No, John. It needs to go back to it’s mother or it’ll die.”</p><p>“Oh.” said John softly. He clasped the tiny bat close to him, his strange expression unchanging. Watching him, it occurred to Bruce that he had seen a similar expression before. </p><p>Many years ago when he was a boy wandering alone on the periphery of the family estate, a strange dog had gamboled up to him; an energetic chocolate mottled pointer, carrying something furry in it’s jaws. “Hey boy, c’mere. Is that for me?” he’d said, beckoning. The dog had stared at him, jaws tensing, eyes alight. Instincts warred. Bite, rip, shake. Primeval nature heaved, gasping. Then just as swiftly as it had come, the blood lust faded. The dog wagged its tail and sat on its haunches, depositing the dead squirrel at his feet. </p><p>John smiled. “How do we do that?” Bruce exhaled, releasing the breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. “Here, c’mere.” He gestured. “Where’d you find it?” John pointed to a spot on the cave floor.</p><p>“Just leave it right there.” </p><p>“You sure?”</p><p>“Just leave it here and go stand over there for a while. Come on.” </p><p>John did as he was told, laying the small thing out on the floor with an uncharacteristic tenderness. Watching him, Bruce was struck not for the first time by the curious duality of this strange man who had so effortlessly insinuated his way into his life and heart. The same hands that could have easily extinguished the flame now cradled and nurtured it; that in itself a mysterious and fragile wonder.      </p><p>They waited. Minutes ticked by.</p><p>There was a flutter of wings and a soft squeal. A shape swooped out of nowhere, embracing the squeaking critter. There was an awkward tussle; an abortive attempt at flight. Then just as suddenly as they had appeared, they were both gone, the protector and the protected; winging their way swiftly into the darkness beyond.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Imperfect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bruce had thought John would be happier. It was his first day outside Arkham, the beginning of a new chapter of his life, the closure of the old. Yet John had been rather subdued that day, green eyes inscrutable as he took in his new living arrangements, the new cast of characters and his new doctors.</p><p>Bruce recalled what John had said about the outside world being loud and chaotic. Perhaps the change in routine was what had unsettled him. Years of brick, stone, and barbed wire; heavy with hollow pain and painted dull with solitude did not wash away in an instant. Perhaps he simply needed time to adjust.  </p><p>It had been John’s idea to escape as soon as possible to the nearest public park. They sat together on a park bench, John sipping serenely on a ridiculous double whipped cream caramel macchiato, the late afternoon sun casting a soft glow around them. Bruce broke the silence.</p><p>“What are you thinking John? You’ve been..quiet today.” </p><p>“Mm.” nodded John distractedly. He stared into the distance, watching the families with their children. “They seem so..happy.” he stated. “So..normal.” He turned towards Bruce. “Do you think I could be like that one day?” </p><p>Bruce blinked. “Do you want to be?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” John conceded. “But everyone seems content to be normal. I don’t know if that would work for me..but to have a family to come home to? It does sound like a nice idea.”</p><p>Bruce started, his heart clenching a little. He recalled what John had told him of his past in Arkham and his time with the Pact. John had never known “normal”. As far as he recalled, he had spent his entire life in the company of madmen and violent criminals, thugs and hoodlums. Even his brief foray into the outside world had been shrouded by secrecy and colored with violence, existing rat-like on the fringes of society. </p><p>Had John ever taken a walk on the beach, had someone take him out for a night on the town? Had he ever simply greeted the sunrise with a loved one each day? If he had, he would’ve had no recollections of such, only ghosts of a clouded past, steel doors, neon lights, cold tiles and concrete. </p><p>As far as Bruce knew, him and Dr Leland were the only sane people John had ever spent a significant amount of time with, and on the topic of HIS sanity, he had no doubt that there were some would definitely beg to differ. John had been seeking guidance all his known life. He couldn’t have tried looking for it in worse places, Bruce noted wryly. </p><p>He considered his next words carefully. “It’s not impossible John, but you’re going to have work for it.” Green eyes widened in silent question. “Being normal takes effort,” he said honestly. “Perhaps even more so for some people.”</p><p>John thought about it. “And if I can’t be normal? What happens then?”</p><p>“Then we find something that fits you, just like I found something that fit me.”</p><p>“Do you really think that’s possible?” John’s expression was doubtful. </p><p>“I don’t believe there isn’t a way.” Insisted Bruce. “You’re special John. The world just needs to see that. We’ll find a make to make it happen. Together.” </p><p>“But what if I can’t do it Bruce?” said John forlornly. “What if I can’t be the perfect man that you want me to be?”</p><p>“I don’t need you to be perfect.” Bruce sighed. “Nobody is.”</p><p>“I think that you’re perfect.” John looked him in the eye. The startling innocence in that statement caught him by surprise. </p><p>“You..uh.” Bruce felt his face heating. “You think too much of me.”</p><p>“I don’t want to disappoint you.” said John simply. “I want to be perfect for you, just like you are for me.”</p><p>Bruce stared. Somehow John had an uncanny knack for cutting straight through the layers of warding and fortification that he had encircled himself with, laying the walls open and vulnerable with a mere look or a few words. </p><p>“..That’s not how life works John.” he began. “Life is messy and complicated and...uh.” He fumbled. “Sometimes, we don’t always get exactly what we want.”  </p><p>“What I really mean is,” He said, reaching for one of the pale hands, taking it into his own. “What this is. What we have. It’s uh.. it’s not about perfection.” He knew he was blushing now. “It’s not about being flawless.. It..It’s about how when you love someone, you do that in spite of their flaws..and you just keep doing it anyway..because it really doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t. Matter. That is..whether they are perfect or not.”</p><p>John paused for moment, considering this. “Why Mr Wayne,” he said slowly. “Did you just say what I think you said?” </p><p>“Um.” Bruce felt more than a little foolish. John’s eyes were twinkling now, a wide grin spreading across his face. He took a long noisy slurp from his drink, finishing it off in one go, then set it aside. A pink tongue darted out. He watched as John wiped his mouth with his thumb, then licked it, cat-like. “Uh,” was all he could squeeze out. Bruce felt the tips of his ears burning. </p><p>“You’re so cute.” said John, smiling sweetly. “Did anyone ever tell you that?”</p><p>Bruce nodded vaguely. The green eyes were hypnotic, and John’s smile was brighter than the sun. Yeah, he was definitely going to take John out as soon as possible. He was going to take him to the beach, to the park, to the theater, to the goddamn mall; wherever he wanted to go. He would give John the entire world; the car, the dog, the stupid white picket fence and two and a half kids if he so wished. Bruce noted hazily that if John had asked for the stars in the sky right then he would have plucked them out and handed them over with nary a protest. </p><p>Suddenly a phone vibrated, the cheery tones of the timed alarm going off. John pouted, reaching into his pocket.</p><p>“Well, this has been charming.” he said. “Alas, I have to report back to my parole officer.” He made a face, gesturing to the tracking bracelet on his ankle. “You’ll walk me back good sir, won’t you?” John fluttered his eyelashes.</p><p>So Bruce did. And on the way back if he stole a quick coffee and caramel flavored kiss or two behind a street corner or a darkened alley no one would be the wiser.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>comments welcome, including random shower thoughts, hatemail and flames. ;0</p>
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